Chapter Thirty-Eight #2
I tighten my grip. “It stood for something.”
“It really did. My father and uncle talked about Trevelyan so much that when I first arrived, it felt like coming home. As if it was meant to be mine.”
We continue down the hall.
“Julius wants to raze it to the ground and build fresh,” he says.
I smile. “He always hated it.”
“He did. But I’d like to preserve the exterior if possible.
Oliver thinks it can be done, and he’s the expert in such things.
He says we’d need to hire an architect to draw up the plans and get expert guidance on things like the trusses, but we could otherwise rebuild it ourselves.
” He glances over. “What do you think? It’s your home, too. Ancestral and current.”
“I think the burning is a terrible tragedy, but also…” I look at him.
“A rebirth. A phoenix rising from the ashes. A new seat for the Albion Pack, rooted in tradition but having burned away the stain of my father and other Alphas who didn’t have their Pack’s best interests at heart.
A new home for a new Pack under a new Alpha. ”
His arms go around my waist, and he pulls me to him in a kiss that sears as hot as the fire that consumed Trevelyan. All his worries are in that kiss, but his hopes, too.
When he pulls away, he brushes a stray strand of hair back over my shoulder. “I couldn’t put it into words, and perhaps it felt arrogant to say it, but yes. A rebirth. A new Pack rising from the ashes.”
“Julius might hate the house, but he will appreciate the symbolism.”
“He will.”
We continue walking. The staircase is remarkably whole, and we head up with care and then pause at the top.
Bishop’s arm slides around me as we gaze down the hall, with its scorched walls and blackened doorways.
“Will you want your own bedroom?” he asks.
I glance over sharply. “I hope that’s a joke. Unless you want your own.”
He smiles. “I know it’s the way among humans, and while I would much prefer sleeping beside you, I would understand if you needed your own place.”
“I would very much like my own place. Not a bedroom, but a room to call mine. Just as I’m sure you’ll have your own office.”
“What would you want?” He leans down to my ear, and when he whispers “Dream, Delia,” I smile, but also feel the prickle of grateful tears.
“A sitting room,” I say. “Where I can read and practice spells and gaze out a window.”
“From a window seat?”
My smile grows. “Yes, please.”
“And what will your window seat overlook?”
I tilt my head, thinking. Then I say, “The east. I want to see the sun rise above the forest and the fields and the stream.” I take his hands, lifting up on my tiptoes. “Can it be on the third floor? So I can see farther?”
He laughs softly. “It can be wherever you want. Perhaps a tower above the third floor? With windows to see in every direction?”
I sigh. “That would be lovely, even if I know you’re teasing.”
His brows shoot up. “I’m not teasing at all. You’ll have a tower, and I promise never to lock you away in it.”
“Oh, you can lock me away in it,” I say. “Temporarily. By mutual agreement.” I waggle my brows.
“Bishop!” a voice calls from below, and Bishop turns with such a growl that I laugh under my breath.
“Bishop?” the voice calls again. “Someone said they saw you come in here.”
“It’s Doyle,” I murmur. “You’d better answer him.”
“Only if you promise we can finish this conversation later.”
“We will, and it will give you time to decide whether I’d be merely locked in my tower, or tied with—”
“Bishop!”
A string of uncharacteristic profanity from my husband, which I drown out by calling, “We’re up here!”
We start heading down, and Doyle meets us at the bottom of the steps.
“Good,” Doyle says. “You said you were going to speak to everyone.”
“Later,” Bishop says, that growl still reverberating through his voice. “I said I would speak to them later.”
I lay a hand on Bishop’s arm. “Perhaps you should do it now. Tell them your plans, and then we can have an early dinner.”
It’s the early-dinner part that does it, because he’ll know that’s code for “eat early and then retire.”
“All right then,” he says to Doyle. “Have a few of the others summon the wolves. I’ll speak to them in front of the house.”
The wolves have assembled. Everyone mills about, some seeming confused, others excited, and a few bored.
They know Bishop is going to speak, and their responses predict what they expect.
A dull speech about how they need to work together?
A rousing one about how we will be stronger together?
Firm plans for what comes next? Knowing Bishop, he’ll understand the need for a short speech but will quickly move on to actual plans.
I settle in with Ann and Tabitha. I won’t say I’m among the bored contingent, but the speech part really is just something we need to get through. A necessary part of being a leader, and the part of being a leader’s wife is looking as if I’m hanging on his every word.
“First,” Bishop begins, “I’d like to properly welcome the Cambrian Pack to Trevelyan.
This is the seat of the Albion Pack, and I can only imagine how it must look to those of you who have never seen it.
” He glances at the burned-out house behind him.
“And how much worse it looks to those who have seen it.”
He turns back to the crowd. “I could have hidden this from you. Found another place to camp and avoided showing our allies just how badly we were routed, the ancestral seat of Britain’s oldest Pack reduced to this.
But I wanted everyone to see it. I want to be clear and open and honest. This is how I started my reign as Alpha.
Ushering in the lowest point for the Albion Pack. ”
He waves at the house. “I should be humiliated to return after I ran away.” His gaze sweeps across others. “I wanted to stand and fight. Others counseled against that, and they were correct. We fled to save as many as we could, with every intention of returning to fight another day.”
He glances at me. “A few minutes ago, Cordelia and I were discussing the rebuilding of Trevelyan, and she likened it to a phoenix rising from the ashes. I don’t know how many of you are familiar with that lore.
To say the phoenix is reborn is not exactly true.
Its predecessor dies in fire and flame, and from those ashes comes the next phoenix.
It is a story of cleansing and rebirth, and that is what has happened here.
The Albion Pack has perished in fire and flame, but we are going to rise and create something better—”
“How much longer is this going to last?” a voice says, and we all follow it to Bishop’s left side, where Doyle leans against a stone post.